


Whiskey Float

by kathiann



Category: In Plain Sight
Genre: Angst, Drama, Drinking, Gen, Introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-09-12
Updated: 2009-09-12
Packaged: 2017-12-11 14:21:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/799690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kathiann/pseuds/kathiann
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>First try at IPS fic, just a little Marshall introspection, kind of, it meanders around, but I like it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whiskey Float

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first foray into IPS fanfic. This story came out of a conversation in my creative writing class about how to take an abstract emotion such as happiness and make it into something more concrete, like ice cream. This is not what the rest of the class come up with in our conversation, and really, it has nothing much to do with happiness. There's no real point to this, and it kind of meanders around. Not beated, because my beta doesn't watch IPS (I know, just wrong) and she's in Japan for the rest of the month, so let me know if you see something horrible wrong and I'll fix it. Not sure I've got the characters down, but, what can you do but keep at it till you get it?

It had been a long day. Not that it wasn't always a long day, but today had been worse. Mary had been fighting with Raph. Not that it was unusual, but, well he just couldn't take it anymore. Mary had left a few hours ago with the intent to check on a few of her witnesses and he was left in the office alone. Sure Stan and Eleanor were still there, well; now they weren't, but they had been for a couple hours.

Now it was just him and that bottle in Mary's desk. He wanted to just open that desk drawer and take that bottle out. He wanted to drink himself to oblivion while playing chess with small girls on-line, not that he was proud of himself for doing that.

But, he didn't want to have Mary find him like the last time, drunk and loosing. She thought he didn't remember. She'd ribbed him about it the next day and he'd played to part of clueless without a problem. He didn't want her to know that he really did remember. He didn't want her to know that he remembered telling him that the reason she told Raph about her, _their_ , job was essentially because she loved him, Raph. She loved Raph. She had never come out and said it, hell, she'd even dogged the question when he had asked her if she was happy, but, still, it was there, the fact that she loved Raph, and was in some way happy.

He knew Raph loved her. He'd heard him say it himself once. But they fought. It wasn't the playful teasing banter that Marshall and Mary shared; no it was outright bickering of the "I hate you" variety. And Marshall just couldn't take it. He loved her. He never mistreated her. He cared about her. He needed a drink.

He stood and walked to Mary's desk. He wanted to get drunk and forget it all. He pulled open the drawer in which she kept her whiskey and groaned. It was empty. But that wasn't the whole of it. The bottle was empty and she had put a sticky note on it that was clearly intended for him to find.

Doofus,  
Next time you want to get drunk, buy your own booze. Oh, and you own me a bottle of Whiskey.  
M

Marshall smiled at the bottle. He unscrewed the bottle top and pulled out his wallet. He slipped a fifty into it and placed it back on the bottle. That should make her happy when she sees it he thought. He wandered back over to his desk. Now the only way he was going to get drunk was to go out and get the alcohol himself.

He shook his head. That wasn't an option. It was one thing to sit in the office and drink himself under the desk with Mary's whiskey; it was another thing altogether to go down to the liquor store and buy a bottle to get drunk at home. He sighed. No getting drunk tonight. Besides, he didn't want to have a hangover in the morning and have to handle Mary's snarkyness with a headache.

Sighing he gathered his things and headed down to his truck. He needed something, something that would make the pain better, or at least, take his mind off of it. He stood in front of his truck, keys in hand, and decided not to go home. There was a bar not a very far walk from the office and he figured getting drunk in a bar was far less pathetic than getting drunk by himself at home, or even at work.

His walked at a steady pace, not rushed or hurried. The sound of his cowboy boots making a gentle and rhythmic tap tap tap on the sidewalk. It really was a nice night, the sky was clear, which wasn't uncommon, and despite the fact that he was walking through the middle of the city there was an impressive array of stars visible.

He started thinking again, as he made his way towards the bar, about the hangover he was sure to have in the morning. He really didn't relish the idea of having to work with Mary in the morning with a hangover if she was still fighting with Raph. He thought about calling her and laughed at the conversation that was sure to happen

" _Hey Mar, I was just wondering if you were planning on any make up sex with Raph tonight, because I don't want to have to deal with you and your lack of sex in the morning."_

" _You keep track of when I have sex?"_

" _What! NO! It's just, I want to get drunk tonight and want to know if I will have to deal with one of your moods."_

" _Tell you what, you get drunk, I'll have sex with Raph and you get drunk, and in the morning I'll be my usual pain in the ass. How does that work for you?"_

Ok, so the conversation probably wouldn't go exactly like that, but the idea would be the same. Mary would still have sex with Raph and Marshall would still have to deal with it in the morning. His walking was slowing as he ran out of steam. He was approaching the busy part of the street now, the light from the businesses shown out of the windows and eliminating large patches of the sidewalk.

As he came closer to the stores the tantalizing smell of fresh waffles wafer out of one of the open doors. Not just any waffles, waffle cones, fresh waffle cones. Suddenly getting drunk wasn't the number one thing in his mind. He wanted ice cream. He thought about the last time he'd had ice cream, it had been with Mary. They had been out of town taking a witness to testify and the witness had wanted ice cream. It was after the testimony so they had taken her. That had been months ago.

And now, all he could think of was getting a scoop of that homemade ice cream that the sign in the window of the shop proclaimed was the best in Albuquerque. The only thing that would make it better would be if they were serving it at the small bar two stores down. A whiskey float actually sounded like it might be appetizing if he were drunk enough.

There was a small crowd, slightly surprising for a weeknight, but it was summer and it was pretty warm in the desert, so it was understandable. Marshall thought about what he would tell Mary if he were with him, about the difference between the more traditional custard that the shop sold and the ice cream that he was sure she had stashed in her freezer at home.

He took his time deciding on a flavor, weighing the pros and cons of vanilla and chocolate and ultimately deciding on a flavor artfully named "Strawberry Fields Forever" which the clerk behind the counter assured him was made of fresh strawberries that come from a local farm. Not that he didn't believe her, but they did live in the middle of the desert and the strawberry was such a delicate plant. Chances are that the closet they came to being from a local farm was somewhere off in California.

He settled himself in a corner where he could watch people coming and going and propped one of the free magazines that always seemed to be present in cities in front of him so that he could see the people, but that they wouldn't realize that he was watching.

He ate his ice cream, no custard he reminded himself, slowly, savoring the sweet tasting almost solid. He watched as a family with small children came in. The mother was laughing with the little girl, pointing out the different flavors in the case while the father and boy quickly agreed on one flavor that they both seemed to like. There were single dinners such as himself, and couples out on a date.

He almost choked on the sweet confection when the next group of people walked in the door. It was Mary, of course Raph, Brandi and Peter were with her, but she was there none the less. He wondered how Brandi and convinced Mary to go on a double date, but stopped that line of thinking. It wasn't important, what was important was that Mary was here, and that she didn't looked ready to kill.

He made sure that his magazine was in place before watching the group walk up to the counter. He smirked when Mary made a snarky comment about the strawberries not possible coming from a local farm unless the clerk was growing them in her back yard and then ordered the "Strawberry Fields Forever" flavor anyway.

The group took a seat near the door with Mary and Raph facing away from him. He didn't mind this. He'd only met Peter once and Brandi was much to absorbed in her lover to notice him peering at them over the magazine from his seat in the corner. He almost felt ashamed and wondered for a brief second when he had stooped to spying on Mary, but then stopped that line of thought by remembering that not only was he here first, but that he hadn't even been planning on stopping for ice cream in the first place.

He watched as Peter laughed at something that Raph had said. Brandi laughed too, but it was clear that she didn't understand what was going on. He studied Mary's posture and realized that she wasn't joining in the laughter. He recognizes the way she's holding her back and he knows that she's just barley tolerating the whole thing. The double date must not have been her idea. It must have been Brandi or Raph's. Probably Brandi.

Marshall watched as Raph snaked his arm around the back of the chair where Mary was sitting and try to place his arm on her shoulders. And he smirked as she shrugged off the attention. Anyone who spent more than thirty seconds in a room with Mary knew she hated to be touched. It was just the way she was. He wondered if Raph's attempts at casual touching in public would lead to more privet touching latter and shuddered at the thought.

He looked down at his bowl of ice cream, mostly go with just a few mostly melted blobs, and found he couldn't eat any more. The thoughts that had been circling in his head earlier were back and he found that the drink he hadn't thought of for the past half hour was starting to sound very good again. The only problem being that he would have to pass Mary on the way out. There was no way he could make it out without her seeing him. There was just no way.

He looked down at his watch; they'd already been there ten minutes, how long could it take for them to eat ice cream. He sighed and settled down to wait for them to finish their ice cream. He tried not to watch, but couldn't help it. Brandi was making a joke now, which Peter smirked at and Raph laughed, he could hear it from where he was sitting. Mary though, she didn't seem to really be enjoying herself.

When they had been there 20 minutes Marshall was really starting to get worried, they had finished they're ice cream and were just sitting there. His desire to leave, and make it to the bar that was just two store fronts down was growing with every movement of Raph's hand on Mary. He was still trying to hold her, and he could see Mary's resolve melting away. One of two things was going to happen, she was going to give in or she was going to flip out. Marshall hoped it would be the former. There was more of a chance that she'd have sex with Raph and then the hang over that he had recently decided was worth, it wouldn't be such a big deal.

Marshall sighed, he could almost hear the music from the bar filtering through walls. He saw Mary lean over and whisper something in Raph's ear, even though Marshall couldn't see the other man's face, he could tell by the color rising on the back of his neck that it must have been dirty.

This was worse for him than just thinking about it, it made him think that the ice cream that was now turning in his stomach was going to come back up on him. He saw the glint of the light on her ring and he had to leave. To hell with her seeing him, at this point he didn't care. He wouldn't have even been here if she had just asked for the money for a new bottle of whisky up front instead of tricking him into it.

Moving quickly so as not to lose his resolve he grabbed his empty ice cream dish and made his way to the trash can and the exit. With any luck the group by the door would be so engrossed in their own discussions and each other that they wouldn't notice him pass.

"Marshall?"

He kept walking, hoping that if he didn't acknowledge Mary's voice that she would think that he hadn't heard her or seen her and just let him leave to drink in peace. Really, had she just replaced the bottle in her desk he wouldn't even have been here tonight. Of course, had he just gone home to drink in solitude like most people did he wouldn't be here either. So really, it wasn't anyone's fault that he was fleeing from an ice cream parlor like one of the many fugitives that the marshal service pursued every day.

"Hey, I know you heard me, where you going?" He should have known he couldn't escape her. He stopped in his tracks, in front of the store between the ice cream parlor and the bar and took a deep breath before turning towards her.

"Mary. How are you doing this lovely evening?" He decided to play dumb, pretend she hadn't called to him before; that she hadn't asked the question that she did.

"Cut the crap Marshall."

"I didn't plan on running into you this evening, or your sister or Raph. I just wanted to leave without a confrontation and ribbing and jokes about my personal life or lack thereof."

"You don't even eat ice cream."

"They don't serve whiskey floats at the bar and I had a craving."

"What for whiskey?"

"It's been tough at work lately, I just needed to relax."

She just looked at him, the look she gave him that he found himself powerless to, the look she used when she wanted him to answer a question and he didn't want to.

"Look, I'm sorry I ran into you tonight, just use the 50 I stuck in your empty whiskey bottle to buy a new one and we won't have this problem again."

"Marshall, you can't keep doing this."

"Doing what Mary? I'm fine. Just, go back to Raph and Brandi, you know they're wondering what you're doing out here." He gestured behind her where Brandi, Raph and Peter had joined them on the sidewalk, far enough away not to hear their conversation, but close enough to know that something was wrong. Not waiting for her answer he walked away quickly entering the bar and not looking back, and knowing that with the rest of her family out side she wouldn't try to follow him.

He sat down heavily at the bar, he ordered whiskey, straight up, and drink it down in one quick gulp the second it was placed in front of him, signaling for another. He downed that one as quickly as the first and signaled for a third, but that one he just let sit there in front of him.

He marveled at the way that the light refracted off of the amber liquid. He could tell that the two quickly downed shots were interacting with the ice cream in his stomach producing the pleasant buzzed feeling that he wished would last longer than he knew it was going to. Sighing he downed the third shot and signaled for another.

"You got to slow down buddy. That much alcohol that quickly isn't good for you."

"I'm good. Don't worry, I'm not driving." Marshall said in dismissal of the bar tenders concern, but taking even longer to down his fourth, sipping slowly instead of gulping. As he sat there feeling the alcohol taking affect, wondering what it was again that had made him want to get drunk in the first place.

Mary. That's right, she'd been even more of herself than she usually was, she better get laid tonight, because one more night of her NOT having sex with Raph just might kill him. The alcohol was starting to numb him and his coherent thoughts were giving way and fading. The last thing he thought was that, whiskey and vanilla ice cream wouldn't really be a bad thing after all.


End file.
